Scattering My Perception
by ChocolateCarnival
Summary: It has been twelve months since Kurosaki Ichigo has defeated Aizen. The now seventeen-year-old still struggles with emotions and regret that he should long since have discarded. But he is too and stubborn and proud to truly seek comfort from another, leaving it to become his father's task to still the unease in his heart and soothe away the pain he has been hiding from himself.Yaoi
1. Scattering My Perception: Part 1

I must apologize first and foremost for my lack of inactivity but I've been having a tough time getting my mind back into my writing for the last few days. Sometimes I struggle to get back into the rhythm of writing when life decides to interfere but those are the times where I need to push aside my previous commitments and just write what I want to. So...we're not quite back to my multi-chapter fics yet but **we will be soon**, I promise.

I've decided to split this one-shot because of the **controversial pairing** so that **I can a give a little warning beforehand of what you can expect**. I also feel the need to post something so long because I have been having _far_ too many inactive days in the last week. For those on the other side of the world, **I'd say happy Valentine's Day to you and wish you a good, love filled day**. But **unfortunately this story is **_**far **_**from being anything sweet.**

It's not related to Valentine's Day at all. It's far too dark, emotional, angsty and controversial. The pairing, I ask that you heed the warnings now: is **Kurosaki Isshin x Kurosaki Ichigo** because I need a break from all my usual pairings and it's been a long time since I've written something as forbidden as this. **So here are the warnings, please read them:**

This fic contains: **M/M lemons**, **Incest**, **some swearing**, **angst**, **hurt/comfort**, **Ichigo in his Mugetsu form** (I've been planning a fic like this for a while now), a **set pairing **between **Kurosaki Isshin x Kurosaki Ichigo **and **contains an introduction part** and a **lemon part**. If any of the warnings have put you off, **please** do not read any further.

This is _my _fic, if you any problems with it...I _don't _want to hear it. You have been warned beforehand. For those who remain, please enjoy. Part 2 will hopefully be posted before my 5 -6 day milestone timer is up on my blog.

It's all yours, I'll see you at the end of the chapter.

* * *

**Scattering My Perception: Part 1**

The resounding noise of shattered glass tinkling upon the surface of an unforgiving tile floor below; could be heard ringing throughout the depths of the Kurosaki household exactly twelve months since a stray Substitute Shinigami had woken up from his bitter but triumphant clash against Aizen Sousuke. After successfully having managed to protect those that he loved from an insane man who possessed a god complex larger than the supernatural realms put together, saved Soul Society from destruction and shielded his most beloved hometown from harm; Kurosaki Ichigo should definately have felt more content in the peaceful sense of accomplishment that his rightful victory had the ability to create. But he simply _wasn't_ and that was the cause of his great internal upset and emotional upheaval at the moment. It was also the sole reason _why_ another array of shattered glass had ended up on the floor by his bare feet.

Left to draw a shuddering breath into the depths of harshly resisting lungs mere seconds later; a tall lithe frame was absently leaning against the bathroom washbasin where several rivulets of warm blood fell in a steady _plop_, _plop_, _plop_ from the tips of numb fingers. Creating distressing splatters of sickening crimson upon white tiles, the pain never once truly succeeded in capturing Ichigo's dazed attention _despite_ the harsh sting that was present in the shallow wounds by now. Curling long, elegant fingers into frustrated fists by his side; the seventeen-year-old was forced to breathe shakily through the sudden explosion of rage that saturated trembling limbs and caused him to close his eyes in search of immense self-control that could lock away the overwhelming fury that was staining his mind so wholly. Ichigo had become an unwilling captive to his own _useless_ predicament once again; constantly entwined in lingering regret that was slowly but steadily taking over the depths of his heart in a darker and much more dangerous pattern of eternal numbness.

It was just past midnight in the Human World. The deep darkness of an early-winter night consuming Ichigo's pessimistic thoughts with dark despair just as an open window invited inside the silvery rays of a pale, full, moon. Casting its haunting light upon a cracked bathroom mirror; Ichigo instinctively clenched his eyes shut against the burn of pure emotion that was searing the backs of his eyelids in a very familiar and shameful pattern of tears. Instantly chasing up the erratic beat of his unsettled heart, the seventeen-year-old was unable able to hold back the smallest whimper of unease that spilled from petal pink lips unbidden of his permission. He really did_ not_ want to see it anymore, he thought despairingly. It was a constant, painful reminder of what he had lost everytime that he was forced to look upon it now; _knowing_ that he no longer possessed the power to protect those that he loved as he had been born to do. Irritably turning his back on the shattered mirror without any true sense of what he had just done, dazed eyes eventually fluttered open after several moments of forced calm and gradually settling emotions.

The moonlit bathroom was glowing harshly around him; bloodied fingertips flicking on the light so that Ichigo would not step in the glass as he became vaguely aware of the image that was reflected through the spider web cracks and distorted surface of a bathroom mirror. In the corner of his eye and the source of his greatest despair these days, was the face that he had woken up to every morning for the last year irrevocably. Gazing back at him with depthless emotions of rage, unsettled turmoil and uncontained sorrow were blood red eyes and deeply furrowed black brows. Red, red eyes that were a stark reflection to his despaired soul as long pitch black locks, tumbling down his back to sensually brush the tops of his thighs with every shift of movement, became the sole representation of his greatest triumph over an enemy and one of his greatest failures as well. However, as a mere hollow reflection of the powers he had once possessed; it was a startlingly cruel reality to live through everyday. It was even a sight that Ichigo mourned deeply...especially because of the harsh grip that his night terrors could enclose around his heart night after night that he was captive to bitterly remembered memories.

_'I'm sorry, Kurosaki-san. But there's nothing that I can do.'_ The words that Urahara had spoken when he had awoken a month after Aizen's defeat; had become the burning sear of reality that Ichigo could not escape from these days. _'As far as I can tell, seconds before the Hōgyoku was sealed along with Aizen, it decided to grant you; the being it now recognizes as its master, one last wish. To give you back the _form_ of your strongest technique. However, because of the innate essence of 'Mugetsu' as I can understand it, it could not grant you your sacrificed powers. This is merely artificial, Ichigo-kun, something that I cannot reverse without knowing exactly what changed within your soul to trigger its appearance in the first place. It's far too dangerous to arbitrarily remove your soul from your body to find the answers, though. So I'm afraid that you are going to have to live with it for now.'_ All the blonde haired shopkeeper had basically been able to tell Ichigo was that this appearance could not be reversed and that he was stuck with it for the rest of his life and possibly his _afterlife_ as well.

'Shit!' The black haired teen hissed irritably; a lingering sneer curling at petal pink lips as he forcibly stilled his struggling breaths into a more calmed rhythm with sheer determination and will alone. That had been a year ago. Twelve months where, even though it became a little easier to see this appearance in the mornings and the people had stopped _staring_ at him everytime he walked into class, it still remained a deep and painful reminder of the essence to his soul that he had lost. Barely managing to keep himself back from cursing outright, Ichigo wiped bloodied fingertips against the fabric of his sleep pants as he absently bent down to look for the larger pieces of glass that were scattered across the tiled floor by his feet. He was going to _have_ to get over it sometime though, Ichigo thought to himself harshly. That was the second mirror that he had broken in the last month alone; the first having shattered at his hand in startled surprise the moment he had caught a glimpse of his appearance when he had woken from a nightmare not too long ago.

His father was probably going to throw a fit again; like he always did these days when Ichigo seemed to lose himself to the darker of his emotions. But Ichigo couldn't seem to find it in himself to care anymore. He could use the money from his part-time job to pay for a replacement, the only thing that his pay-check seemed to go to these days when it wasn't being put away for after graduation. Ichigo really _needed_ to find some reprieve for the constrictive shackles that were wound around his soul though, _needed_ to escape the uncomfortable sensations that had been chasing through his heart since he had woken from another painful dream of unrestrained fear and clawing emotions again. He was achingly tired by now, however; the world pushing down on his shoulders as the black haired seventeen-year-old tried to ignore the dark circles that were drawn beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and the uncertain tremor that was present in his hands as he quietly shut the bathroom door behind him after having splashed some water on his face to wake himself more fully.

Making his way through the hallway with quiet but determined footsteps, Ichigo eventually pulled a long-sleeved blue jumper over his black shirt to keep himself a little warmer as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and settled a warm jacket across his shoulders in the hopes that it would ward against the winter weather that he was sure to encounter outside that night. It was perhaps not such a good idea to leave the home when he was so emotionally unbalanced and unsettled, but Ichigo couldn't help it anymore. He just needed to get away, to clear his head from the painful memories and dark thoughts that had taken up residence in his heart for a long time now. Slipping on white sneakers that were placed by the front door, Ichigo absently wound a blue scarf around his neck before he briefly threw a curious glance over his shoulder and brushed long, messy black bangs away from his eyes as they tumbled evocatively across pale cheeks, fell between his eyes and he instinctively listened for any indication that he had woken his family from their nightly slumber.

There was a subtle light that was spilling into the family home from the direction of the Kurosaki Clinic. An undeniable fact that his father was still clearly awake and could provide the eternal comfort and guiding hand which Ichigo needed so desperately that night. But only _if_ he had the courage to push open the door that sealed it away from him in the first place. Ichigo hesitated, though. The blackette's temple resting against the closed, glass door as his heart wavered uncertainly for several seconds and the former Substitute Shinigami eventually chose to walk out of the backdoor with careful and quiet footsteps instead. Ichigo didn't want to cause more trouble than he already had, it just wouldn't be fair on them. So the black haired teen valiantly bit back his emotions and decided to take the less noticeable way out of their home before his family could notice his current state of being and tried to console him. He really did not know _what_ to do anymore...should he for once discard his pride to seek comfort from his father or to try and stem the deep numbness that was saturating his heart so wholly all by himself?

In the end it was Ichigo's inability to rely on another because of his internal fears, that pushed him towards the outside world of solitude and difficult emotion instead. He was willing to transverse the dark night by himself just so that he would not have to display his upset state to others. It was after all unfair to drag them into his emotional upheaval in the first place, they weren't the reason why he was the detached and broken existence that he was now. Leaning into the caress of an icy cold wind that was swirling wildly around his form, Ichigo paid little attention to hip length black locks that was being whipped around his form erratically and sent long strands of pitch brushing against his spine in a familiar, enveloping and warm touch. Eventually spilling over his shoulder in messy, midnight black waves; the seventeen-year-old merely allowed the soothing scent of coming snow and rain to overwhelm his strained senses for the moment.

He was curling his arms around a thin waist protectively, seeking to prevent his internal warmth from fading too much as Ichigo continued to make his way towards the one place in this small town where he was sure that he could find some rest for his unsettled soul. Situated beside the open fields of Karakura's outskirts, it was the solitary place that Ichigo found himself returning to again and again as the years passed and he had no one else to settle his internal upset like now. Just the mere thought of returning to _that_ place however, was enough to ease his struggling breaths as Ichigo urged himself to place one foot in front of the other with the sheer determination to not let his emotions get the better of him like it had been threatening to do since he had first been startled from his harsh dreams earlier that night. Usually Ichigo showed a lot more self-control than he was at that moment but _everything_ seemed to have reached a pinnacle of distress that night...completely throwing his world into a startlingly real chaos that Ichigo struggled to keep himself protected from as the seconds continued to pass.

With a million stars spread above him in a sea of black velvet; the light of the full moon became Ichigo's only guide as it illuminated his path dutifully the moment that he passed outside the range that the streetlamps reached. He collected several winter flowers that were still blooming on the path as he walked, carefully arranging them in his hand as the black haired seventeen-year-old pushed on in his journey without really paying attention to where he going. He knew this part of town like the back of his hand; leaving him to roam the quiet streets without needing to really take note as the former orangette allowed his thoughts to consume his mind once more in an overwhelming rush of sensation. He was mourning the fact that simply couldn't forget his emotions for a little while, though. He did_ not_ want to think of everything that had happened to him and those around him in the last few months in a constant loop of replaying images. And it had been going_ so_ well this month, Ichigo scolded himself harshly. He had valiantly managed to keep himself away from transversing the self-pitying thoughts that had tried to possess him so wholly.

But they were once more rushing into the depths of his mind with muddled and difficult emotions that he could barely contain.

Did it make him selfish to want his powers back? To possess a little regret for not being strong enough to protect those he loved without sacrificing that which had defined him so completely? Ichigo really didn't know _what_ to think anymore. He wasn't so sure who he was either and that was what truly threw him. What did he do now when he possessed no ability to protect his family and friends from danger? It didn't matter how his mind raced across these thoughts over and over and over again however; it still wouldn't bring back what he had lost and Ichigo hated himself for not being able to stop the yearning need that he felt to experience _anything_ besides the numbness that had descended upon his soul for so long now. Time seemed to pass into an indiscernible stretch of sensation not long after that, however; the blackette so caught up in his thoughts that when he finally reached the Torii (1*) gates that stood proudly across the entranceway of Karakura's Cemetery, Ichigo barely had time to tip his head forward in respect as he listened to the soothing sound of the rushing river that was situated not too far away from here.

It had been many months since he had returned here, he thought absently. A small stain of true regret against his conscience as Ichigo whispered a quick prayer in search of forgiveness and walked the well known path through rows and rows of graves in search of the _one_ marker that meant more to him in that moment than even the world did. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking but here, away from everything and his responsibilities, Ichigo truly felt as if he could find something to calm himself with. Just the lingering memory of her eternal warmth and comfort should have the ability to soothe his upset, a small consolation to settle his soul as Ichigo came to a halt in front of the Kurosaki family grave. Gripped in his hand was the last of autumn's surviving purple and white wild flowers; the smallest offering that he could have gathered in the middle of the night that the world had been willing to provide for his unplanned visit. It wasn't much and in his eyes, it never would be enough. But Ichigo really needed something besides his own mind to tether his thought to reality that night as he knelt respectfully in front of the stone memorial.

'I'm sorry, Okaa-san. I haven't really brought much else besides these flowers tonight. I even forgot the incense but I wasn't planning this visit so I'm not really prepared.' Ichigo said apologetically; methodically cleaning away the dust, grime and strewn flower petals that were settled across the marker with icy cold water and a wooden ladle that the shrine nearby provided the visitors. Fingertips were brushing against cold stone not long after that, Ichigo arranging the new flowers in the small vase as tired crimson eyes gazed at the name that was carved into the stone so coldly. He could read it clearly in the moonlight, the sky remarkably clear and bright for a winter night as Ichigo breathed softly through his internal distress. 'It's becoming far too easy to slip on a mask and pretend that I'm fine these days. I don't want to lie to them anymore, Okaa-san, but I don't _want_ them to see this. I really should not be affected by this as much as I am. I was expecting it after all. But I can't deal with it so well anymore.' A haunting tenor whispered softly, the teen's body drawing in the cold and detached sensation that the grave brought forth within his heart as Ichigo kept his palm pressed against freezing stone in search of his internal control.

'I want it back, Okaa-san...I want to feel anything besides the numbness that never leaves me alone anymore. How can I keep my promise to you if I don't have my powers anymore?' Ichigo asked despairingly; his greatest shame spilling from his lips as he slowly traced the kanji letters of his mother's name in deep and unsettled thought. Ichigo may have been able to lie to himself again and again these days, to even construct an image that could convince his family that he was fine...but in front of her, Ichigo couldn't keep it up. Not here and _not_ on a night like tonight. For the first time since the blackette had awoken that night, Ichigo let go of his burning thoughts and allowed himself a bit of selfishness just this once. When they came, Ichigo didn't dare bite back their icy touch. They were tracing a path down his cheeks one for one, glittering in the moonlight as he breathed shakily through the sudden explosion of aching emotions that cracked through the numbness that was enclosing his heart so coldly.

_Just this once_, _just this once_...Ichigo thought to himself. _Just this once_, he'd allow himself to let his emotional strain show. It was his greatest shame to lose his ability to protect after all, even when he showed the world an entirely different outlook on his current predicament. To him, Ichigo knew that he had lost the greatest source of his pride and what had made him worthy enough to protect those that he loved. Now he was a mere shadow of the being that he once was. Something had definately cracked inside of him a long time ago; something irreparable that simply refused to find any consolation these days. But like this, Ichigo would slowly begin to rebuild the impenetrable walls around his soul...to shield himself from the pain once more as he carefully sealed away this slip in his control to protect _himself_ this time.

It simply wouldn't do for others to see him like this...they should _never_ know the constant weakness that he struggled against.

* * *

1* - Torii – Torii gates are the gates that usually protect the shrines and cemeteries in Japan, it is a representation of the Shinto religion but can be found in Buddhist shrines as well.

Right, that's it. Thank you so much for reading and always being so patient. I'm off now though; I still have a lot to do today. If I may receive a small review for my work, I'd be eternally grateful to you. But other than that, I hope that you found the small introduction enjoyable.

May you all have a great Valentine's Day, or had one if you're on my side of the world. Any questions though, don't be afraid to ask them. I'll try to answer them as well as I can but I won't spoil my plot for you.

Part 2 will be posted in 5-6 days (maybe less), we'll see how my inspiration flows.

Yours Always

Chocolate Carnival


	2. Scattering My Perception: Part 2

Okay, so I'm a few hours late. This story took a lot out of me but I couldn't be happier with the end result. I really love this one, it's definately one of my favourites...so much so that I'll be writing a sequel to it and if I cannot control myself, I have a great start to a multi-chapter fic here as well. This is one of my favourite pairings, one I've never had the courage to write for until now...so I'm very glad that I decided to do this story.

Other than that, I'm not sure what update to do next but we'll see how things are looking at the end of the day. Considering that I woke up early to finish this, I'm not going to say much other than the warnings because I'm exhausted. **Please heed them now**:

This story contains: **M/M lemons**, **Incest**, **Angst**, **Mugetsu! Ichigo**, **Hurt/Comfort** and a tiny touch of dub-con on Ichigo's part. Other than that, please remember that the **main pairing is Kurosaki Isshin x Kurosaki Ichigo.** If that puts you off, please don't read any further.

I'm not forcing you to read this. So for those who remain, please enjoy and just a warm thank you for those who have already reviewed this story. I'm done though, I can barely think:

It's all yours.

* * *

**Scattering My Perception: Part 2**

'So once again you choose the hardest path...don't you, son?' Isshin asked the thin air as he crossed his arms over his chest in sheer exasperation and frustrated disquiet. A frown of deep concern was tugging at dark brows; chocolate brown eyes gazing up at the ceiling in thought as the spiky black haired father eventually pushed himself to stand from his desk and briefly cast his eyes over the array of papers and files that were scattered across the wooden surface. He had been finishing his work late into the evening hours that night; completing what he could not before until he had been interrupted mere moments ago by a startling crash, shattering glass and quiet footsteps that echoed hauntingly throughout their home at his beloved son's unsettled dreams once again. Really now, he thought to himself irritably. He had _specifically_ left the clinic's main light on so that Ichigo could come inside should he need the comfort that he seemed to crave these days. But Ichigo still remained far too obstinate to ask for it himself, probably too afraid of showing his 'Oyaji' his true emotions as it were.

'Stubborn child! Are you going to make me chase after you _again_? When will you learn that you are _not_ alone in this, Ichigo?' A haunting baritone lilted sorrowfully; prompting Isshin to push his stethoscope aside as the older being hastily pulled his doctor's coat over his shoulders because the internal heating did not reach outside his office. It didn't matter how he preached his frustrations and concerns to the air, though. If Ichigo did not hear these words himself then they became utterly meaningless. He was fairly disappointed that Ichigo had not taken the leap and crossed the threshold into the clinic to seek his help. But the spiky black haired father did consider it a small triumph when he became deeply aware of his child's noticeable presence that lingered close to the closed doors for several moments of contemplation. By the time that the older Shinigami had crossed the hall to open the clinic's front door and leaned out into the empty hallway to call Ichigo inside, the sound of retreating footsteps and the definitive click of the backdoor closing could be heard ringing throughout the ground floor seconds later.

'Damn it!' He swore angrily. That was_ it_! He was _officially_ blaming his son's light-footed feats and stealthy movements on his own attacks of 'alertness' and playful antics. Now he would have to transverse the cold night outside to look for a wayward and clearly upset Ichigo. It was but a small task to him though, Isshin thought absently. He would do it a thousand times over if he could just find _something_ to settle the dull glimmer of helplessness and soul deep pain that tainted those now startling red eyes so irrevocably. If only he could soothe away the dark dreams that Ichigo seemed to hide so well these days behind a mask of stoicism, isolation and stubborn resistance to not let himself heal his own internal anguish with the help of another. It was increasingly disconcerting to see his child as he was now; the sole reason why Isshin had been growing deeply concerned and disquieted over the last few weeks himself. His beloved firstborn had been showing a rising despondency to the world, withdrawing deeper and deeper into himself as his introverted nature was wont to do.

And in turn, it left a spiky black haired father frustrated and drained by his own helplessness. Isshin never had a problem consoling his children, especially when it came to his daughters. But Ichigo...his son was _always_ the most difficult to reassure because he tended to take everything upon his own shoulders so as to not burden the rest of the family. What was worse, was those heart wrenching emotions that glimmered so dully in soulful red eyes. They were _more_ than enough to effect even Isshin these days with their startling intensity.

The spiky black haired father could empathetically understand his child's frustration at the loss of his powers though, even relate to it in some sense. However; being forced to gaze at the image of one's power in the pinnacle of its existence because a black orb had decided to gift you the outwards appearance of it, must have been tearing his child up on the inside. It was probably the sole reason why Isshin had replaced more than six bathroom mirrors over the last year alone. That was not really the problem here though, Isshin thought despairingly. He only needed to find a way to settle his child's suffering and that was exactly what he intended to do that night. He had had _enough_ of this! Enough of them dancing around each other without really getting to the truth of the matter because he knew, somewhere deep inside, Ichigo needed someone to rely on in the times of his desperate need. A fact that he would force his child to acknowledge that night even when it seemed an impossible uphill struggle.

Without looking back; Isshin hastily trudged up the stairs to check if his daughters were still asleep and would stay like that for a while still before he left through the backdoor with the solitary intension of following his now black haired son outside. His mind was frantically running through the limited possibilities of where Ichigo could go; the black haired Shinigami instinctively stretching out his senses to track the minute amount of reiatsu that Ichigo still possessed these days until it lighted across his soul in a familiar touch. It was desperately cold outside; the icy winds howling loudly in strained ears as Isshin pulled his white coat more firmly around his shoulders and observed the pitch black darkness that had descended upon Kurakura Town in an all consuming embrace. Dressed only in a long sleeved black shirt, a dark green jumper, dark trousers and a white doctors' coat whilst braving the winter cold outside, was perhaps not the best idea that he had. But before Isshin could turn back to fetch something warmer, the moonlight illuminated across a lithe figure that was more than halfway down the street with quiet footsteps and notably hunched shoulders.

The appearance that Ichigo carried these days was astoundingly beautiful, Isshin noted to himself briefly. Something that was eternally haunting and would have been wreathed in power whilst he had fought Aizen a year ago. It was a sight that Isshin eagerly drank up everytime that he saw it because Ichigo's strong features had become that much more defined and likened to _her_ than before. To think, even for a second, that this was _his_ child; was enough to sometimes steal his very breath with sheer pride and loving affection alone. Ichigo took after Masaki a lot; especially now that hip-length pitch black locks framed a soft featured face, full petal pink lips and vibrant crimson eyes that could display such a haunting array of emotions. But Isshin was undeniably a part of those features as well...in the strong set jaw and high cheekbones that were brushed by messy black strands constantly. Those thick, hip-length pitch black locks... it should be illegal for a boy to possess hair like that but it was something that Isshin enjoyed looking at because for once, Ichigo possessed a hair colour that cemented his influence over his child's appearance.

There was no doubt that the spiky black haired father missed those bright orange locks that Ichigo had possessed before, though. He could still remember it clearly, the orange locks that had always smelled of strawberries when Ichigo had been much younger and Masaki had decided to make a parody out of her son's name. These little reminiscences of a younger Ichigo who had always been clinging to some form of his father or mother, vibrant smiles and innocent chocolate brown eyes were not really going to help the older being settle his son's soul. So Isshin dutifully pushed his thoughts aside and continued to stay several meters behind Ichigo's walking form. He kept out of sight the further that the hip length black haired teen travelled into Karakura's abandoned streets; Isshin wavering on the idea that he should probably call out to Ichigo to bring him home but he was decidedly curious to see where Ichigo was going with such determination in the darkness. By the time that they entered a familiar street that passed directly in front of Karakura's Cemetery, Isshin could only allow a sorrowful sigh to pass his lips.

This was...this was just heartbreaking to watch and what was worse was _knowing_ that Ichigo was willing to return to such a desolate place in the middle of the night rather than seek out the comfort that Isshin was more than willing to provide. No, was his _duty_ to provide. He still kept his distance for a while longer though, staying close enough to not lose sight of Ichigo but far enough away that the teen did not hear his mirroring footsteps or noticed him within the dark cloak that the night provided. Chocolate brown eyes never once strayed from his son's form though; Isshin watching the slow and loving movements that Ichigo took as he washed away the dust and grime from the grave before kneeling there respectfully. The wind had finally died down around them; long, pitch black locks enveloping a kneeling figure evocatively as elegant fingertips rested against the stone memorial in a loving touch. It was almost as if Ichigo was drawing strength from the stone itself. When the blackette finally spoke the truth of his upset and his deepest wish; the words that carried over the small distance separating them left Isshin with the unsettling sensation of pure disquiet.

_'I want it back, Okaa-san..._' Those words were all that Isshin needed to hear to finally understand what was going on inside Ichigo's head. It was also what provided him a way to console his son's unsettled emotions in the future that was to come. It wasn't right, though! His precious firstborn should never have to experience this sort of pain. He was still far too young to carry a burden so heavily intertwined with sorrow. Stepping down a concrete pathway one foot at a time, the black haired Shinigami made sure that his footsteps were more noticeable than before as he tugged himself from the security of the shadows and came to stand next to a kneeling figure supportively. Diamond like tears were clinging to pale cheeks as Ichigo looked up at him in utter surprise; long strands tickling reassuring fingers as Isshin carefully rested his hand against the top of a bowed head and knelt beside his child in great concern. There were several ragged breaths drawn into resisting lungs; the black haired teen struggling to find his control as he tipped his head forward to conceal his shame from his father's gaze...but Isshin only hummed softly in thought before he tugged a trembling form against his chest without second thought.

'O-Otou-san? W-why are you...please! Let me go...l-let me go! I―!' Uncertain fists instantly pressed against a strong chest, seeking to push him away but Isshin merely tightened his grip around trembling shoulders as he buried his nose in long black locks to burn a lingering, sweet scent into his mind. 'Shizukesa (1*), Ichigo! What are you doing out here? Does the fact that I leave the light on for you, discourage you from coming to me when you're like this? Do you think that I cannot see the dark emotions that you try to hide in your eyes? Ichigo, _please_. All I ask is that you just _come_ to me. Must I tell you how much it hurts me to see you like this, my son? That I live_ every_ second of anguish along with you? Because it's the truth!' Isshin yelled harshly, his own frustration getting the better of him before he abruptly softened his voice and allowed a rush of calming words to spill forth from his lips at Ichigo's distressed whimper in consoling comfort. He was carefully carding gentle fingertips through pitch black strands; pressing a lingering kiss against the top of a black haloed head before he was forced to close his own eyes to gain better control over himself.

'Ichigo...you are _not_ alone in this. _Please_ stop taking so much emotional strain upon yourself. I've told you many times that you are too young to bear such sorrow. Just this once, will you allow me to protect you? It's time that you find some of your own comfort. My most beloved child, there's no need to turn to a cold grave when I'm right here. I will always be here for you, just _come_ to me Ichigo and I will do _everything_ in my power to help you.' A wailing cry suddenly resounded through the night air; the call so earth shattering and deep that it seemed to originate from the depths of an unsettled soul before strong fingertips clenched the front of Isshin's coat in a restrictive, desperate, grip that refused to let go even when Ichigo was simultaneously trying to place some distance between them again. Isshin wouldn't have any of his son's indecisiveness though; the long haired blackette only succeeding in prompting his father to pull him closer against a strong chest as the older being tightened his embrace the moment that a thousand emotions, words and hoarse cries echoed into the air around them with heart wrenching clarity.

Isshin had no idea where to even _begin_ to soothe away those emotions, but he did murmur nonsensical words against the shell of a dainty ear in a constant stream of reassurances and comforting promise. Protectively curling his arms around his child's waist as he rocked back and forth in a gentle pattern that came to him as easy as breathing; Isshin allowed his son's emotions to flow into him over and over again just so that he could soothe away the pain into something more manageable and calming for the both of them. And until Ichigo's cries seemed to dull, turning into several hiccupped sobs that were muffled against his chest, Isshin continued to whisper small reassurances that he would never leave his child to suffer his pain alone. How long they stayed curled together so closely, Isshin couldn't really tell but _until_ he was sure that Ichigo had spent all his pent up emotions, he would _not_ let go. Years and years' worth of anger, frustration, sorrow, regret, anguish and intentional distance was pouring into the vast night around them...sinking into the depths of their souls for what felt like hours before it slowly began to evaporate into a soothing stillness that was no longer strained with such darkness and overpowering upheaval.

'I love you, Ichigo.' Isshin whispered truthfully; a gentle flicker of affection sinking into chocolate brown orbs as he tipped Ichigo's head back and pressed their foreheads together in a tender touch. The Shinigami was carefully reading the fathomless depths of crimson orbs in rightful concern, noting the fact that they seemed utterly drained and exhausted even through the dull emotions and dark numbness that was reflected back at him within the rays of the moon. But if Isshin looked hard and deep enough...he could just see a tiny spark of calm and tranquillity swirling in their depths before he pressed his lips against the perpetual scowl that was present in black brows. 'Never forget that, Ichigo. I'm always beside you.' The pads of gentle fingertips were wiping away the traces of despaired tears; brushing soothingly against the soft skin of Ichigo's cheek until the younger soul leaned into him and crimson orbs fluttered shut at his affectionate caress.

Isshin didn't like the look of those dark circles that were drawn beneath beautiful red eyes but it was something to sort out later. He _knew_ that he had to get his child out of the cold and warmed up first.

'Give me your hand, Ichigo.' Isshin said softly; chuckling mirthfully at widened red eyes that were gaping at him for several seconds in sheer disbelief before those petal pink lips parted to impart a series of confused question. When Ichigo made no intension to obey him though, Isshin forcibly captured cold fingers in his larger hand as the spiky black haired father pulled Ichigo closer to his side and they began to follow the well known path towards their home despite the blackette's indigent cries to let him go. An attractive pink flush was settling across pale cheeks, a heady spark of fury igniting those dulled crimson orbs as Isshin hummed happily at his achievement and continued to keep his son close to his side for every step that they took closer to home. There was a small smile of amusement curling at pale lips; the hip-length pitch black haired teen clearly put out that his father was slipping into his more playful personality again. But even so, Isshin was easily managing to keep the both of them calm and grounded against the emotions and sensations that had nearly overwhelmed them before.

'Stop your struggling, my delinquent son!' Isshin yelled in exasperation, relaxing his shoulders when Ichigo instantly stopped trying to untangle their hands and decided to glare at the ground in sheer embarrassment instead. 'Geez, making me worry about you so much! Shut up and take your punishment like a man, it'll make you feel better in the end. I promise you, Ichigo. Human contact is _not_ something that you can cut yourself off of from so long, it'll only deepen your despair.'

**...**

'What are you thinking about so deeply there, son?' At the resounding call of a soothing baritone, Ichigo instinctively jerked his head back in surprise when gentle fingertips traced his cheek lovingly and chocolate brown eyes clashed concernedly with crimson orbs for several long moments of calmed silence. Averting his gaze with flushed embarrassment because of his own startled reaction; the hip-length black haired teen absently tugged his bottom lip between his teeth and prayed that his father had not yet seen the dulled emotions that were still reflected in his eyes so irrevocably. However, when Isshin called to him in true concern; Ichigo gratefully curled long fingertips around a cup of tea before he took the presented drink from his father's hands and held it in a firm grasp. Allowing the inherent warmth from the cup could seep into the tips of numb fingers, the former Substitute Shinigami struggled valiantly to bring his fragmented mind into some semblance of self-control again as he desperately tried to keep his father from noticing the uncertain tremor that was present in his hands.

Ichigo felt heavily unbalanced in those moments; the seventeen-year-old not quite able to draw a proper breath into his lungs when he realized, ever since he had completely lost himself in his father's arms twenty minutes ago, he seemed to have entered a strange trance-like state where the world felt entirely too detached from around his soul. It was encircling his existence in an iron fist of numbness, chasing up the erratic beat of his heart as it completely distorted his strained senses to the flow of time and reality around him. Leaving Ichigo enveloped in a deep, _overwhelming,_ lack of sensation; the teen could only briefly recall the heady spark of life he had felt the moment that Isshin's larger hand had curled around his and a familiar presence had stayed close to his side for every step that they had taken home. And as the blackette stared up into the startlingly serious expression that was crossing his father's features now, he quietly curled himself into a smaller ball upon the couch before pulling up long legs so that he could fold both of his hands around a circular cup securely.

'Ichigo?'

'I-I'm sorry.' Ichigo said softly, an inaudible whisper falling past his lips as he struggled to come to terms with the fact that he had _lost_ himself so completely and utterly mere minutes before. A single moment of kindness from another had been _all_ that it had taken to shatter more than a year's worth of careful conditioning to conceal his own emotions behind an impenetrable wall of sheer determination. A fact that left Ichigo feeling utterly raw, completely relieved and still shaking with an internal emotion that he couldn't place quite yet. The former orangette did remain utterly exhausted though; even when he _knew_ that he wouldn't be able to fall asleep that night. The black haired teen's emotions were still far too dulled, his internal wounds ripped open again where deep inside _something_ was chasing through his veins in a heady rush that simply couldn't be contained. Ichigo moaned softly however, leaning into the soothing sensation of a warm hand that curled around the back of his neck to ease away the uncomfortable twist that was present in his stomach. There had to be _some_ way to create a distraction to calm both his heart and soul―.

'Ichigo? Son? Oi! Are you still with me?' When Isshin called out to him with increasing concern, Ichigo reluctantly uncurled himself from his protective ball as dazed crimson eyes fluttered open at the warm palm that rested against his forehead and the family room couch that dipped beside him with a noticeable weight. Blinking lazily at the harsh artificial light that was scratching irritably against sensitive eyes; the blackette could only whimper softly when he became headily aware of uncontained sensations that were heating his blood in a strange and completely unusual pattern. Brilliant sparks of electricity were dancing erotically against tanned skin, sinking deeply into heated veins and slowly but surely spilling over into his soul everywhere that tender fingertips touched him. And as they tugged playfully at hip-length black locks at the base of his neck before ruffling his hair in an affectionate caress; Ichigo shuddered at the strong hands that guided him closer to his father's side and prompted the teen could rest his temple against an infinitely warm chest.

'Otou-san?' Ichigo asked softly; waiting patiently for his father's hum of curiosity before he took a deep breath and attempted to put into words the thoughts that were swirling so confusedly through his mind. 'Will you forgive me if I do something stupid?' Words, untainted by any emotion, momentarily threw Ichigo with the rawness of the sound and the startling lack of tone that that was present in his voice. But his concerns were soon forced to flit away; the blackette's mind latching onto one crazy, _shameful_, idea that had swirled into the depths of his mind a little earlier that night and was about to urge him to something _very_ uncharacteristic. A deep frown was furrowing black brows in sheer determination, Ichigo gazing up at his father through a messy sprawl of pitch black locks that had previously concealed pinked cheeks from the world as a rising flame of lingering emotion began to saturate the teen's vastly expressive crimson eyes without his knowledge. When Isshin swiped messy strands aside to read Ichigo's emotions for himself, the younger being pulled away abruptly so that a warm jacket could slide from his shoulders in a sensual sprawl of black fabric.

'Hmmm...considering that you _always_ do stupid things, Ichigo, regardless of what I tell...I'm going to _have_ to forgive you aren't I? Just as long as it's not life threatening, body altering or impregnating a girl that I don't kn―.' The spiky black haired father was instantly silenced by a startled cry of indignation and a flying couch cushion; fiery crimson eyes flashing dangerously in anger as petal pink lips parted with a rush of reprimanding words. 'S-shut up, bastard! That was totally uncalled for, I wasn't thinking of _any_ of those things.' Ichigo yelled in frustration, barely managing to keep his voice quiet so as to not wake his sisters as he suddenly pulled his long sleeved blue jumper from his torso and threw it aside at the overwhelming heat that was brewing so uncomfortably against his skin. Dressed only in loose black sleep pants and a form fitting black shirt now, Ichigo still felt inexplicably hot. Stumbling from the couch in several uncoordinated footsteps; a warm cup of tea remained long forgotten on the side table when the previous cold seemed to evaporate from around Ichigo's heart in a tender touch.

'All jokes aside, though, son. You_ know_ that I'll forgive you for practically anything. But, if I may...just what the hell are you on about?' A dark seriousness seemed to have crept into chocolate brown eyes, pinning Ichigo with a querying gaze as the blackette turned his head away to conceal the deepening flush that was creeping across his nose and the subtle shiver that was chasing across his skin. He was _officially_ insane, Ichigo thought absently. Utterly terrified by the confused thoughts that were taking over his mind so wholly and constructed a different kind of need in the pit of his stomach. Where somewhere, in the depths of his soul, this idea made total sense to him. No matter how much the blackette's rationality was protesting against it or how much he was questioning himself...Ichigo simply _couldn't_ seem to let go of the brewing curiosity that was streaking so powerfully across his heart. And when Isshin placed his own cup of tea aside and leant forward in a movement to comfort him, Ichigo sighed softly before pushing messy strands of hip-length pitch black back over his shoulder.

'Forgive me, Otou-san, for even considering this.' Ichigo whispered softly, deeply pained emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes as the former orange haired teen rested his knees on either side of his father's hips and straddled a warm lap. Pressing Isshin back against the couch with the palm of his hand, Ichigo shuddered unexpectedly at the sheer sensation it instantaneously shot through his veins. A soft dusting of pink was colouring pale cheeks; several ragged breaths of surprise falling from luscious lips as Ichigo curiously took in his father's utterly startled expression that was widening chocolate brown eyes and furrowed a frown across defined black brows. 'I-Ichigo? What are you doing? Aren't you a bit old to be crawling into my lap?' Ichigo would have laughed was he not stuck in such a loop of detached sensation. But the ability to feel _anything_ besides the gnawing need that was brewing in the pit of his stomach, seemed to be a completely impossible task at the moment. It was also what was inadvertently strengthening his resolve...

The seventeen-year-old _needed _something, something fundamental and as Ichigo abruptly sealed his father's words with his lips; crimson orbs flashed with a vivid spark of life. Fluttering shut half-mast at the pleasurable slide of an intimate caress, a rushing intake of breath dragged coolly against petal pink lips as those dark brown eyes widened against his gaze and strong hands instantly rose to pull them apart. But Ichigo evaded their grasp easily, trumping his father in speed by curling elegant fingertips around tanned wrists and pinning them back against the couch with a restrictive hold. Shifting his knees to bring himself closer, Ichigo groaned softly at the advantage he gained when pale lips parted beneath his touch in a gasp of shock and the black haired teen clumsily swiped his tongue against a bottom lip in lieu of deepening the eroticism of their intimate caress. His kiss was clumsy, filled with welling emotions that Ichigo couldn't contain as a deep murmur of contentment echoed in the back of his throat the longer that Ichigo kept their lips sealed together. The blackette suddenly arched back though, breaking the kiss when biting teeth dug into his bottom lip and flooded his mouth with the undeniable taste of blood.

'W-what are you doing, Ichigo?! This is insane!' Isshin yelled in a sudden explosion of rage; starling Ichigo from the daze that had descended across his mind as the black haired teen smiled sorrowfully through the reprimanding words and shifted from the perch that Isshin had yet to push him off of. He was turning his back to the older being, leaning forward so that long black locks spilled over his shoulder and reached towards the floor at the pull of gravity. But before Ichigo struggled to get some form of true coherency back in himself though, he could already feel an icy touch trailing down his cheeks, dragging deep tracks into his skin as the seventeen-year-old breathed shakily through the abrupt explosion of emotion that was searing so deeply across his mind. This time he _knew_ that his tears were tainted with pure relief instead of pain.

'I'm sorry,' Ichigo whispered breathlessly; glancing over his shoulder before turning around so that he could show his father the truth that was present in his eyes.

'I've felt so numb this last year, Otou-san. Can you imagine the frustration of not even being able to feel physical pain?' Ichigo asked despairingly, fidgeting with the fingertips of his right hand before he lifted it up to display the surprisingly deep cuts that were drawn across his skin from the mirror he had shattered earlier. They were scabbed with dried blood, angry red with hurt but to Ichigo they meant absolutely nothing. 'It doesn't hurt.' Ichigo said sorrowfully, scratching absently at the broken skin before he traced the bleeding cut that was present on his bottom lip with a watery smile. His tongue was absently swiping away the blood there, a strange fire burning in crimson orbs as the teen curled his arms around his waist in search of some self-created comfort that was difficult to come by these days. 'Except this. I can _feel_ it, Dad. Everywhere that you touch me...when you held my hand...it's _burning_ me up! I know that this is wrong and that I shouldn't have done that or even _want_ more of it! But I'm _so_ tired of feeling nothing that it's starting to hurt!'

'I can't sleep, I can't even breathe sometimes but tonight, I finally felt a spark of life again. I want to feel pleasure instead of pain, I want all these dark thought to just go away! This infernal doubt that I can't seem to control... If I could feel contentment instead of such unneeded sorrow, maybe I can _finally_ be myself again. But...I'm sorry, I―.' A hitched breath suddenly echoed harshly throughout the air, the sound lodging itself painfully in his throat as the teen glanced shamefully towards the floor in unsettled distress. He was wiping away at the evidence of his upset with the sleeve of his shirt, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the annoying and unjust weakness as several long moments of silence passed between them. With no indication that Isshin had heard his desperate cry, Ichigo did not dare look up. He was _too_ afraid of what he would find. Just as he was about to turn on his heel and head back to his room; it was _his_ turn to draw in a shuddering gasp of surprise as reassuring arms curled protectively around his waist and he was pulled flush against a strong chest with warm lips pressing against the skin of his forehead tenderly.

'Do you have _any_ idea what it is that you are asking of me, Ichigo?' Isshin inquired softly; a soothing baritone caressing the shell of a dainty ear with a sensual whisper as Ichigo shivered unexpectedly at the low and near seductive tone. He was forced to give a truthful nod of understanding though, when strong arms tightened painfully around his waist. Knowing very well what it was that he was asking of his _father_ and what he was asking of himself as well; Ichigo was more than willing to transverse the forbidden taboos that night just to gain a loving and gentle reprieve from his despair. 'What we are doing, what I am even considering is wrong on so many levels. And yet, when you look at me like that, Ichigo. I struggle not to obey your every whim.' When tender fingertips reached upwards to tip his head back, Ichigo was only vaguely aware of the conflicting emotions that were swirling in chocolate brown depths before he leant forward into the caress of warm lips.

An infinitely soft pair of lips slid slickly over his, a much more experienced tongue slipping warmly into the depths of his unexplored mouth as Ichigo shuddered near uncontrollably at the sensation of a scorching slickness that snaked blissfully against his tongue and he was overcome by pleasure that was searing so powerfully across his skin. The instant that he was teased into an erotic dance of pure lust; Ichigo curled his arms around the back of a tanned neck and moaned lowly in his throat at every breath that was stolen from his lungs and he willingly yielded his heart to the gentleness that was pulling him into a deeply pleasured state. Ichigo's soul was teeming with desire, a flood of passion flowing freely into his veins and burning painfully through his heart as it sunk into the depths of his very being unbidden of his control. Crimson orbs were falling shut not long after that, warm breaths caressing his cheeks as the long haired blackette dug his fingertips into much shorter spiky locks and revelled in every single sensation that he could finally feel pouring into the essence of his entire existence.

When they were forced to part for air, a low whine of sheer disappointment was spilling past his lips. Ichigo dazedly observing the string of saliva that still connected their tongues before it snapped as he swiped his tongue across his lips in an attempted to discern the warm and addictive taste that was still left behind upon their surface. A soothing touch, gentle and much more intimate than anything Ichigo had ever felt before, rested against his cheek; tracing the flushed skin there before a lingering kiss was pressed across his lips again. A burning fire was swirling in Isshin's dark brown eyes, Ichigo teetering on the edge of bliss as he felt his entire soul dismantled with that deep gaze alone. When pale eyelids fluttered shut and a warm chin rested against the top of his head, Ichigo allowed the deep and overwhelming warmth that flowed from his father's body, to saturate his entire being as he whispered a pleading cry for more.

'Will this help you, my child?' When Ichigo answered in an affirmative and selfish 'yes', warm fingertips twined intimately with his before he was abruptly tugged behind a strong back, led through their home and down a very familiar hallway. 'Do you promise me that there will be no regrets come morning? Once I take you past this threshold, Ichigo; I will not be holding back and neither do I want you to. This is a sin that we are willingly committing together. The time for games are left behind on the other side of this door. ' When warm fingertips brushed through hip-length black strands to bring him back to himself for several seconds, Ichigo watched curiously as a single hand rested uncertainly against the door handle that led into his father's room before the black haired teen smiled softly in consent. His own hand was covering a larger one, twining tender fingertips together before Ichigo twisted the handle with a brush of finality.

'If I'm sealing my own fate, Otou-san, then I understand very well what I am doing. There won't be regrets, I promise. And I won't hold back, either. After all this...I don't think that I can.'

* * *

Curious fingertips were brushing across the surface of a dark blue duvet, haunting crimson orbs fluttering shut in thought as Ichigo allowed the nostalgic scent of a familiar room to completely surround his senses from all sides. Sweet cologne, fresh laundry detergent, the clinic's antiseptic and a barely there hint of cigarette smoke which Ichigo had always been able to attach so comfortingly to his father's form; enveloped him now in heady warmth that couldn't be ignored as the hip-length black haired teen clenched infinitely soft sheets between elegant fingertips. When a knowing palm came to rest against his chest, urging him to sprawl sensually onto his back with a push; Ichigo barely paid attention to his right hand that was covered in a swathe of white bandages and restricted his clenching fingertips in their desperate grip. Isshin had _insisted_ on treating his wounds first, having used the last five minutes of intimate contact and barely there touches to _burn_ the teen inside out with unresolved sexual tension and a needy want that was only igniting hotter and far more intensely than ever before.

'Hnnn...Otou-san...please...' Leaving Ichigo to pant softly in his rising bliss; crimson orbs snapped open at the call of his name before he smiled softly when the mattress of the queen-sized bed dipped softly beside him. 'Move back a bit. There's still plenty of room.' At the older Shinigami's gentle instruction, Ichigo found himself obeying those words effortlessly as he carefully observed the strong form that crawled onto the sheets after him and a soothing presence came to rest much closer to his side. The soft glow from the lamplight was illuminating the world around them, the beginnings of a scruffy beard colouring a little darker along the spiky black haired Shinigami's jaw before Ichigo shyly drew his legs together to conceal the startling state that his arousal was already in. A gentle glow of affection had crept into chocolate brown eyes by now, sweeping deeply through fathomless depths before the blackette arched eagerly towards the large palm that came to rest against his still clothed abdomen and a knowing hand curled around a fistful of pitch black locks.

'Ichigo...' With his name whispered in such deep strain; Ichigo instinctively turned his head to the side when a warm nose nuzzled the side of his neck and the sly palm that was pressed intimately against his abdomen, trailed lower to sensually slip between clenched thighs and coaxed them apart with an insistent touch. 'Relax, Ichigo, I won't hurt you. I want you to call me by my name if you are uncomfortable. I can understand that saying Otou-san or Dad might not make this experience very pleasurable to you or―.' Ichigo, barely even aware of those words, abruptly silenced his father by pressing his fingers against a warm mouth before he pulled Isshin closer to him and slid their lips together in a tender and deeply satisfying touch. His fingertips were clenching in soft fabric, tugging desperately at a white doctor's coat to try and ground himself as the heat that was searing through his skin, sinking into his very soul through his clothes, easily threw up a deep haze of sheer want across his mind. He was shifting in his restless pleasure though, a needy whine spilling from his lips as Isshin bit the shell of his ear fairly playfully.

''M fine, Otou-san.' Ichigo noted through a series of hitched breaths. 'I-I said I won't regret anything so p-please stop worrying about the details. I'll call you Isshin if it'll make _you_ feel better, but I don't think calling you Otou-san or I-Isshin will increase or decrease my pleasure either way. I'm already far too...' The black haired teen trailed off in a lilting tone of embarrassment, a pink flush colouring pale cheeks attractively as he reached downwards to curl uncertain fingertips around a tanned wrist. Leading that large palm upwards towards a very intimate place, Ichigo arched his neck backwards so that he would not have to see the surprised expression that flitted across chocolate brown eyes at the state that was already in. There was small hum of soft approval that sounded above him, though; sly fingertips tracing the outline of his hardened arousal pleasurably as Ichigo moaned in sheer rapture at the unexpected caress. 'On a scale of one to ten Ichigo, just how sensitive _are_ you?' Averting crimson orbs shyly, Ichigo concealed his heady flush behind a sprawl of messy black locks before he simply refused to answer the question.

'Just tell me, son.' Gently coaxed into a more calm state as warm fingertips carded through his hair, Ichigo whimpered softly the moment that warm lips pressed against the furrow that was present between his brows and a soothing baritone whispered against his skin. 'It's important that I know, Ichigo. I don't want to hurt you tonight. I also need to know how much of my reiatsu I can let slip before it'll feel like you're suffocating.' The startling reality that was present in those words caused dazed crimson orbs to widen as Ichigo stared frightfully into chocolate brown eyes for a long time in question. At Isshin's soft sigh, the older being withdrew the palm that had been tracing Ichigo arousal and leaned back when the hip-length black haired teen balanced himself on his elbows. 'You don't know this, do you? When Shinigami make a coupling, Ichigo, whether in a gigai or not. Their reiatsu will automatically respond to the pleasure they feel. I'm asking you how sensitive you are, so that I can control mine without hurting you. However, if I'm going to go by your state...you seem to above normal to be affected so much already.'

'I-I...' Ichigo swallowed uncomfortably, a brush of sobriety offering him a moment to think before he sighed softly and fell back against the sheets bonelessly. Sending hip-length black locks sprawling evocatively around his form, Ichigo turned on his side as he shivered softly at the implications that was present in those words. 'N-normally I'd say an eight...b-but because of so long and...' Ichigo whispered hoarsely, a flush of mortification deepening across his cheeks as he eagerly leaned into the warm fingertips that traced his cheek lovingly and yielded instinctively to the gentle palm that turned him onto his back. When an infinitely warm body pressed closer to him, slipping between his parted thighs, Ichigo blew out a sigh as he leant upwards to whisper a number against the shell of his father's ear. There was a heady chuckle curling in the air not long after that, enveloping Ichigo in a brush of deep embarrassment before a sly tongue suddenly dragged against the corner of his mouth and a chortle of sheer amusement brushed his cheek.

'Really? I was afraid of that.' There was a startlingly playful grin curling at pale lips, Ichigo gasping in surprise when sly fingertips slipped beneath his black shirt and pushed it up and over his head. Leaning down now so that their foreheads were pressed together tenderly, Isshin briefly revelled in the sensations as Ichigo could only helplessly curl his arms around the back of a tanned neck. Rocking back and forth into the pleasant sensation that warm palms traced against his sides, Ichigo tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as strong arms slipped underneath him and abruptly pulled their hips together. 'You may want to remember to breathe, son. This may just get a little overwhelming. My reiatsu control is usually good but my ability does not extend that far. So if things get too intense and you can't breathe, just tell me to slow down or remind me to reel it in.' At Ichigo's tentative nod that he had understood, the spiky black haired Shinigami scooted back a bit as he briefly rummaged through the bottom drawer that was next to his bed.

Impatiently arching back against soft sheets, Ichigo could only briefly spare a thought to his father's actions before he shifted his hips and pushed black cotton pants down his legs. Dragging soft fabric pleasantly against his skin, the blackette struggled to reach down far enough to get rid of it completely when warm fingers captured his wrists abruptly and pressed them back against the mattress. 'Starting before me, we can't have that, Ichi. Relax, child. Just let yourself feel, don't think. You want pleasure, right? I can give you more pleasure than you can comprehend but you have to trust me to take care of you.' Even though Ichigo may first have been hesitant to trust his father's words, he could only nod numbly at the seductive tone as he absently clenched warm sheets between his fingers. Accidentally gripping pitch black strands in his grasp as well, the black haired seventeen-year-old could only whine in frustration when the infinitely long strands tugged painfully against his scalp with the position that he now found himself in.

Spread out on his back, even though feeling comfortable, wasn't such a good idea when it pinned his hair beneath him so harshly. Luckily though, Isshin seemed to notice his discomfort and used a firm hand to shift their positions. Allowing Ichigo to lay his head back against a bare shoulder; knowing fingertips swiped long black strands over a tanned shoulder and barely offered the blackette a chance to shudder against the sensation of a warm, naked, chest that was draped so intimately across his back. There was a startling flush colouring pale cheeks though, the black haired teen only now realizing that Isshin was without his doctor's coat and the clothes beneath. He _hadn't_ even noticed that yet but before he could say something about it, Ichigo cried out through a haze of bliss when the new position afforded the older Shinigami an unfair advantage. Lathing a warm, slick tongue against the side of his neck, Ichigo could only pray that he would be able to hold onto the snapping string of his coherency that was keeping back a deadly pleasured fog from taking over his mind.

'Nnngh! O-Otou-san...please! M-more! I can't...' Arching back wildly at the warning teeth that sunk into his neck, the hip-length black haired teen felt his entire world shattering to pieces around him when he became headily aware of a sudden flare of suffocating sensation that was sinking so restrictively around his very soul. Forcing his struggling breaths from his lungs in a rush, Ichigo moaned in sheer bliss at the tightening coil of need that made itself known in the pit of his stomach. 'D-Dad! I-I-Isshin p-please! C-can't breathe!' Ichigo called out soon after that; barely able to yell his caution at his father's rising power. Clenching the fabric of dark pants desperately, Ichigo dug blunt fingernails into Isshin's strong thighs as a deeply unsettled mind began spinning with the sheer helplessness under the press of that climbing reiatsu. Despite the unsettling sensation that he couldn't breathe, Ichigo was startled at just _how_ good its awakening touch felt to him. It was searing erotically across his heart, crimson orbs fluttering shut at the undeniable brush of pleasured tears as Ichigo was forced to whine in need when slick fingertips soon trailed soothingly against the inside of his thigh.

'Sorry, Ichigo. I almost lost it there.' At the soft and sincere apology, Ichigo could only shake his head in the negative before shyly imparting the truth of the pleasured sensations he had just felt. 'I see, so it felt good?' When Ichigo nodded dazedly, no longer caring about the wanton sounds that were falling so erotically past his lips, the blackette was soon shuddering near uncontrollably as that overwhelming sensation wrapped warmly around his limbs and flowed much more gently across his entire being. 'Here, part you legs, Ichigo and lean back against me.' Obeying Isshin's words without thought, Ichigo could only groan through every powerful sensation that was wracking so deeply through his limbs. When a firm hand curled around the base of his erection though, Ichigo thought that he would lose his head completely. His heart was already racing erratically against his chest, his body rocking into the slow drag of fingertips as he totally lost himself to the sensations of _utter_, _pure_ and _unadulterated_ rapture.

'This may feel a little cold, Ichigo, so please bare with me for a little while.' The black haired teen was barely even aware when Isshin pulled away to spread lubricant over his fingertips; a noisy hiss of disappointment falling from kiss swollen petal pink lips when warm fingertips uncurled from around his arousal and slowed his pleasure to a startling crawl. But Ichigo didn't have to wait long before Isshin was quick to soothe his son's frustration again. The small warning the older being had spoken though, was echoing loudly through Ichigo's head as he was forced to arch back at the feeling of a single slick fingertip that traced teasingly against his entrance before slipping inside with little resistance. It was cold, the blackette's breath hitching in his chest at the odd and totally new sensation that broke powerfully across shivering skin. Even though he tried desperately to pull away at the strangeness of the sensations, a firm and knowing grip returned to his arousal and prompted Ichigo to forget everything again. The world was fading away from around him, toes curling blissfully in warm sheets as Ichigo shifted his hips to force that finger deeper inside of him.

'Don't tense up so much, son. Just calm yourself. That's it, just relax. Feel out your pleasure, let it come to you.' Falling limp against a strong chest, Ichigo rolled his head back in pain when one finger became two and then three. And by the time that they had a set a startlingly soothing rhythm of giving and taking pleasure, the stretch had become decidedly uncomfortable for Ichigo. But still the blackette remained unbothered by it. Ichigo was eagerly rocking into the touch, bowing back in a sensual arch when a hoarse cry was tugged from his lungs and long fingertips caressed a little button of sheer ecstasy inside of him. He was growing impatient by now; waves of overwhelming pleasure cresting against the edges of his soul as Ichigo called out for more in a litany of rapturous cries and deeply needy mewls. When his head was tugged to the side abruptly, the black haired teen eagerly welcomed a scorching tongue into his mouth and allowed himself to be turned around so that he was straddling the spiky black haired Shinigami's lap chest to chest.

'Are you ready for more, Ichigo, or is this too much for you?' Resting his forehead against Isshin's briefly, Ichigo scowled deeply at the challenge that was presented in those words. As he nodded his affirmation for more though, Ichigo barely had time to curl his hands around supporting shoulders before the soft sound of shifting cloth stopped and a deeply pained cry spilled from his lips. Burying a scorching heat within him in a single thrust; the blackette bowed backwards in a desperate arch as an evocative tumble of pitch black locks began to adhere to the droplets of sweat that were tracing sensually down his spine. Adding an overwhelming rush to the already sensitive sensations that were dancing erotically against his skin, Ichigo was left panting for his faded breath as he slowly but surely lost his entire existence to a very pleasurable fullness and needy heat.

'Fuck! You're tight...' Shuddering unexpectedly at those words, Ichigo leant forward to seal slick lips together before the blackette only became vaguely aware of the soft possessiveness that was flaring against his soul as hip-length pitch black locks tumbled over his shoulder to envelope the both them in a world pleasured creation. 'Oh...oh g-god! S-so...deep! Please, m-more! More! I-Isshin!' Ichigo called out hauntingly, his heart expanding with emotions he had not felt in many years as he pleaded and begged and cried for more and more and more. His entire world was already shattering to pieces around him, his spiky black haired father yielding to his wishes by slowly setting a pace that reached into the very depths of his pleasure and chased up his desperate need for release. Leaving the black haired teen to swim through a world of overpowering sensation, Ichigo's entire soul was being pulled and stretched under Isshin's ministrations as a thrusting pace began to reach deeper into him.

That was all that it took to break him though, Ichigo's muscles tensing in anticipation as a single harsh thrust completely overwhelmed his consciousness.

'ISSHIN!' A resounding call was echoing into the air around him, pleasured tears falling from beneath lowered lids as indiscernible emotions of bliss, joy, rapture and overwhelming relief saturated tanned skin so irrevocably. Teetering on a black oblivion and suspended between two worlds of life and death; Ichigo allowed every possible sensation he could feel to flow through his soul as he felt his release tainting his stomach warmly and a pleasured groan in his ear signalled the flooding scorching heat that painted deeply inside of him. Breaking apart an entire year of frustrated loneliness, fear, anger, frustration and deep emotional pain in a few seconds of pleasured bliss, was enough to send Ichigo's entire consciousness into darkness as his soul entered an entirely different of plane of fulfilment. He had finally found his comfort, had found the one to ease his pain and now that he had him...Ichigo wasn't planning on letting go.

He could finally feel again...

**...**

'Oyasumi (2*), Ichigo.' Whispering a soft lullaby against the shell of a dainty ear; Isshin carefully settled the covers more firmly around Ichigo's shoulders as he shivered softly at the feeling of surprisingly strong arms that were thrown restrictively around his waist. Hip-length black locks were splaying intimately over a clothed thigh, beautiful strands of pitch tickling the skin of his abdomen as the seventeen-year-old son made himself comfortable against his father's reclining form without any intension of moving away now that he seemed to have found an eternal warmth to cling to. Absently leaning his head back against the headboard, Isshin carefully counted the seconds to make sure that Ichigo had drifted off into a proper rest this time before he recalled the last few moments with intense and vibrant clarity. Those haunting crimson orb were finally rested behind pale eyelids, the spiky black haired father revelling in the loving warmth and bright fire of passion that had seen saturating their beautiful depths so wholly the instant that Ichigo had lost himself to his pleasure mere minutes ago.

It had been such an astonishingly beautiful sight to witness, Isshin thought to himself. Enough to even steal his very breath from his lungs as it prompted the black haired Shinigami to sear the image into the back of his eyelids that night. He wanted to preserve its sight forever, to burn the expression of utter rapture and infinite bliss that had crossed those attractive features in his mind for eternity. And if he couldn't, he would treasure it for the rest of his life. Their bodies were still cooling from the intense heat of the intimate entanglement; souls still quaking with the ultimate forbidden bliss that they had pierced into their flesh...and for the life of him, Isshin still couldn't find _any_ of the regret that he knew he should be feeling in those moments. Having taken his son so mercilessly and sinfully in his own bed, the bed where he had been conceived in eighteen years ago, it should not be something to find such pleasurable joy and pride in. But Isshin couldn't contain himself.

He had long since come to terms with the insanity of his own mind, even shutting away the possibility that he may just have dealt his son psychological damage that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Sadly Isshin had never possessed the ability to deny Ichigo anything, especially when he was in such pained emotional distress. His child always asked for so little, never sought out his own comfort and took far too much onto his own shoulders... So when Ichigo had shown a bit of selfishness that night and a spark of fiery life had ignited those dulled crimson orbs for the first time in a year, Isshin had decided that he would do anything in his power to preserve its sight. But to be given such an astoundingly beautiful gift in return, he had never thought that things would be turning out this way. It wouldn't matter though, as long as he could keep his son happy then Isshin would remained deeply content as well. In the end, that was all that it came down too.

Finding a little joy in the darkest time of his life.

Sighing softly as he rummaged through his drawer for a cigarette and a lighter, serious chocolate brown eyes flashed thoughtfully with the a hitch and curl of a flame. Briefly illuminating the darkness of his room in a flicker of light before it was extinguished, a miasma of silvery smoke soon fell past pale lips as the spiky black haired father returned his hand to infinitely soft black strands and carded tender fingertips through hip-length pitch black locks. He probably shouldn't smoke, he had given it up a long time ago but to ease his own disquiet, the older being was wiling to break the rules just this once. After everything that had happened, there had to be something to settle the tumultuous emotional turmoil of the night. He was gazing at the clock beside his bed though, counting down the three hours before the Kurosaki household would be alive with activity again. It wouldn't be too long until Yuzu stormed up here, brush in hand and woke her Onii-chan with their daily 'brushing Ichigo's hair' routine.

Biting back a bubble of mirth at the thought, Isshin carefully stilled Ichigo's restless shifting as the black haired teen wormed himself closer to his father's side. That little amusement had started about a month after Ichigo had awoken from his fight against Aizen and had complained that he couldn't get all the tangles out his hair. Helpful little sister that he had, Yuzu wasn't about to let the chance slip by to play with her brother's hair when it was longest and most beautiful in the family (according to her). It was now as much a part of the morning routine as it was the evening routine before she went to bed. At least his son was a good brother, a fact that Isshin was very proud of. Ichigo's values were infinitely strong and would remain eternally unshakable for an eternity to come. A rightful state of being for the heir to the Shiba family and one that he would make _sure_ was wreathed in all the power (even more) than what he had possessed before.

There was no way that Isshin would let his child suffer through such upsets any more than he already had to. Since he had heard his son's deepest wish in front of his mother's grave that night, no matter how much Isshin knew that Ichigo was going to deny it later, his father would make sure that he was given back what he had sacrificed to save them all. It would be unfair to his child not to reward his selfless love as it was. Extinguishing the last of his smoke in a long forgotten ashtray moments later, Isshin scooted down the bed after having struggled to uncurl Ichigo's restrictive arms from around his waist. Resting his head beside Ichigo's on a soft feather pillow, the spiky black haired Shinigami was startled when a warm forehead pressed against his and dazed crimson eyes fluttered open at his movement. Gazing at him sleepily for a while, a true and genuine smile curled at those petal pink lips before the younger being leant forward to press their lips together again in a gentle, intimate kiss. One that Isshin felt himself yielding to naturally.

'D-Dad?'

'Hmmm? What is it, Ichigo?' He asked softly, carding tender fingertips through hip-length pitch black locks to settle his child's unrest. 'Go back to sleep, you can stay as long as you want.' Shivering softly when Ichigo shook his head at the words, Isshin was fairly surprised when strong arms wound around his neck and Ichigo pressed himself flush against his body. 'Can I come again?' Chuckling headily at those words, Isshin caressed a pale cheek lovingly and revelled in the deep affection when Ichigo leaned into his touch and murmured contentedly through his dazed state.

'You can come as many times as you like, Ichigo. Just not now, your Daddy's too tired to go for another round so quickly.' Laughing heartily at the deepening scowl that was tracing across pitch black brows, Isshin could barely bite back his amusement when pale cheeks coloured blood red in an instant and Ichigo yelled his ear off that that wasn't what he meant. But the spiky black haired father knew that already, so he quickly hushed Ichigo's words and pressed his lips against a smooth forehead tenderly. 'I know Ichigo, I know. I'm just playing. You can come to me whenever you want, son. I'll always be here for you, that is a promise I will never break.' When the older being could no longer keep the lingering dregs of exhaustion away, Isshin carefully curled his arms around a thin waist and tugged Ichigo closer to his side. There was a soft endearment spilling passed his lips, echoing into the air around them as his son shivered against his touch and drifted off into the depths of his deep sleep again not long after that.

Finally, those startling crimson orbs had regained the eternal fire that had always been so hauntingly beautiful to Isshin. A window into the rested state of his son's soul and an achievement that he could not be more happy with than he was...

'Sleep well, son. I will still be here when you wake.'

* * *

1* Shizukesa – Be quiet.

2* Oyasumi – Sweet Dreams.

Okay that's it for all my notes. I want to thank you for reading, I really appreciate it. And if I may receive a small review for my work, I'd be eternally grateful. Other than that, I don't think I can add much more other than this story was an absolute pleasure to write.

I hope you enjoy it and I apologize that it is a bit late but the details in this one were overwhelming. I'll see you guys hopefully in another week with another update, even though I'm still deciding which one to do.

Yours Always

Chocolate Carnival


End file.
